


Silenced

by CelticWarriorMoon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Hospitalization, Hurt No Comfort, Injury, M/M, Major Character Injury, Mission Gone Wrong, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Suffering, Waiting Beside Hospital Bed, basically that trope where one character refuses to leave until their lover wakes up, because I am a sucker for that, both the physical and emotional kind, i think, only referenced though, possibly hurt/comfort later though, will have a follow-up chapter later, will possibly have fluff later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 12:16:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13787580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelticWarriorMoon/pseuds/CelticWarriorMoon
Summary: When a mission gone wrong leaves Hanzo injured and unconscious in a hospital bed, McCree already fears the worst. Then he gets the news.He may never hear Hanzo say "I love you" again.





	Silenced

_Beep. Beep. Beep._  
  
The steady pace set by the heart monitor was only exceeded by the pace of McCree's beating heart. In the solemn silence enveloping his surroundings, the rapid  _thump-thump_  in his ears seemed far too loud. He glanced upwards, taking in the steadily-forming patterns on screen, before casting his eyes once more to his lap.  
  
Another sigh left McCree. He closed his eyes, ignoring the threatening sting of tears present.  
  
It had only been another mission - at least, that's how it had started. He and Hanzo had grown accustomed to Overwatch's regular tracking and thwarting of Talon activity. Having both carefully honed their skills, it was always an honour to be selected for such operations. Even more so when they got to work together.  
  
But, of course, it was a risky business. Always was, always would be. Talon agents, a good deal of the time, were a force to be reckoned with indeed. Almost every mission would end with some casualties on Overwatch's side, some minor, some life-threatening. Hanzo, stubborn as he was, would always be the first to brush off any minor injury as just another scrape, and McCree would be lying if he said he didn't often do the same.  
  
If only he had been so fortunate the last time.  
  
If only he could forget the bullets through Hanzo's throat, his body collapsing to the street below, the crimson pool forming around his limp body.  
  
McCree slowly opened his eyes. He didn't try to stop the tears, as they rolled down his cheek and into his lap. He turned his head, his heart sinking anew as he beheld the injured man in the bed before him.  
  
He had no idea how long Hanzo had been out of it, but judging by the severity of his injuries and the complexity of his treatment, he had to have been unconscious for a good few hours. In his current drugged-up, bandaged state, McCree would almost think him unrecognisable. An IV drip snaked its way down his left arm; the heart monitor secured to his right hand. McCree's eyes followed the trailing line up to his lover's upper body. A mere few strips of sterile white gauze sat upon his visible chest and shoulders - minor wounds, McCree remembered.  
  
His eyes moved upward.  
  
Unfortunately, Hanzo's face and neck told a different story.  
  
The man's neck remained swaddled in a thick, white roll of bandages. When McCree looked closer, he could see the stiffness of a neck brace beneath. An oxygen mask covered Hanzo's nose and mouth, his breaths coming deeply and evenly in sleep. At least, McCree thought, he remained unaware of the pain for now. The American cast his gaze to his lover's long, loose hair - or what remained of it. A shaven patch of grey stubble, marked by a single, jagged scar, lay awkwardly amidst the shiny, dark strands on the right side of his head.  
  
McCree sighed again, lowering his gaze. It wasn't fair, he thought. He reached out and delicately took hold of his lover's left hand in his own. Hanzo's skin was warm to the touch. Slowly, gently, McCree started rubbing his thumb along the back of Hanzo's hand.  
  
"Ah, Jesse, there you are. I thought I'd find you in here."  
  
The cowboy looked up as Dr. Ziegler's voice cut across the room. He had been so focused, so wrapped up in his own thoughts, that he hadn't heard her enter. The blonde woman walked over to his side, clipboard in hand. One look at her patient, and she too let out a gloomy sigh.  
  
A lump formed in McCree's throat. He hadn't even the energy to respond to her statement. Instead, he let a few silent moments pass, as he anxiously awaited any further discussion on Dr. Ziegler's part.  
  
He cast a worried look in the doctor's direction, noticing that she too had closed her eyes. Slowly, she opened them.  
  
"We can't yet be sure how much damage has been done," she said, in a low voice. "We do know that the bullets ruptured the trachea and caused significant damage to the vocal cords. However, it will be nearly impossible to tell if there's been major damage, if any, to the brain until he wakes up."  
  
Dr. Ziegler paused, once more letting out a sigh. McCree felt his heart sink.  
  
"Whatever the outcome, it is likely he might never speak again."  
  
The walls of the sterile room seemed to collapse around him as the doctor's words rang in his ears. No; he couldn't be hearing this. He looked away from her, hoping she wouldn't notice the tears which still slid furiously down his cheeks.  
  
"...Is... isn't there anythin' you can do?" he asked, quietly, still not daring to look up. His voice was barely his own, instead one which was thick with tears.  
  
A reassuring hand came to rest upon his shoulder.  
  
"Unfortunately, we don't have much choice." Dr. Ziegler's response was accompanied by another sigh. "As it stands, we face only two options: complete cybernetic reconstruction of the throat, which would entail a completely new voice-box; or leaving him to heal, and live without. We didn't want to risk the first option so soon after such trauma. All we can do is wait for him to heal. The choice is then his to make, should he decide it necessary."  
  
Slowly, McCree nodded. He cast his eyes upwards, back to the supine body of his lover. He focused on the gentle rise and fall of the blankets with Hanzo's every breath, desperate to calm himself.  
  
"I see."  
  
The hand gave his shoulder a gentle pat before he heard Dr. Ziegler's retreating footsteps.  
  
"All we can do is wait, Jesse. The prognosis is not good, but Hanzo's a fighter. You never know what might happen."  
  
Before she left, she turned and gave McCree a small smile.  
  
"You should know that yourself."  
  
Despite himself, the cowboy couldn't help but flash a weak smile her way in return.  
  
"I do."  
  
Giving one last look towards her unconscious patient, Dr. Ziegler exited the room.  
  
McCree's smile faded. With the doctor gone, the sinking feeling in his gut only returned. It lodged itself fiercely, constricting his throat and threatening to suffocate him. Once more, McCree glanced in Hanzo's direction.   
  
All the times Hanzo had playfully scoffed at him, the casual yet meaningful conversation he had made, the ardent professions of love during their most intimate moments... never to be heard again. Hanzo's voice would never again compliment him, joke with him, softly whisper to him that everything would be okay...  
  
He let out another weary sigh, which turned to a sob, not even trying to contain the river of tears which poured down his face. They splashed against Hanzo's skin, never to be felt. Furiously, as if he could will his lover to awaken through sheer force alone, McCree ceaselessly ran his thumb across the back of Hanzo's hand.  
  
"Hanzo, darlin'..." his words escaped as a strangled whimper, a plead for response. "I... I love you..."  
  
The tears only flowed all the more as he brought his free hand to his face. His body rattled with sobs.  
  
Never again would he hear Hanzo's voice return the sentiment.


End file.
